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By HELEN L. WILLCOX 4. 


Price, Fifty cents 


Order through denominational headquarters 


MISSIONARY EDUCATION MOVEMENT 
OF THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA 
150 Firth AVENUE New York, N. Y. 














Copyright, 1926, by 


MISSIONARY EDUCATION MOVEMENT OF THE 
UNITED STATES AND CANADA 





Printed in the United. States of America 





PRODUCTION NOTES 


The scenes of this play are set in a village in Persia and in the city of Tehran. 
The time is the present. 


Setting. The setting of this play need not present serious difficulties. If it 
is impracticable to have “scenery” corresponding to the descriptions in the 
text, the essential effects may be achieved by the use of curtains, hangings, 
and lighting. The background for both scenes may be simply curtains of a 
warm gray, hung so as to leave an opening six or eight feet wide at center 
back. This should not give the effect of a door, since the court is supposedly 
unroofed, but should be merely a gap in the gray walls. Several feet back 
of this, allowing room for players to pass between, there should be either a 
back-drop suggesting the scene described, or another curtain of the same 
color, as if it were the wall of a passage. In Scene J, even the small platform 
may be dispensed with, if necessary, although it is much easier for the audience 
to see the men when seated, if they are raised a little above the floor of the 
main stage. In any case there should be a Persian rug at left front, on which 
the men sit. In this scene, the walls may be left quite bare. The principal 
effect here is gained through the changing colors of the sunset. (See section 
on lighting.) 

In Scene II, the atmosphere may be sufficiently changed—from that of a 
house in a desert village to that of a city merchant’s dwelling—by adding a 
few Oriental hangings to the plain gray walls, several more rugs, cushions 
with rich coverings, and silken draperies for the women’s balcony. All hang- 
ings, etc., should be of Persian or East Indian design—not Chinese or Japa- 
nese. If the balcony is not practicable, there may be a low platform against 
the wall at right front, surrounded on front and left by a curtain, which may 
be drawn partly back, or draped, so that the women may be seen while on 
the platform, and yet the effect of seclusion is suggested. 

In whatever way the settings may be simplified, the three entrances are 
essential, since the men’s and women’s quarters must be on opposite sides 
of the public court, and the outside entrance would not be through either one. 
At the initial production of the play (at Silver Bay, July, 1926) it was found 
more convenient to have the outside entrance at left front, but it was obviously 
distinct from the other two. 


Lighting. If the necessary equipment is available, a very lovely effect of 
sunset, dusk, and moonlight may be obtained in Scene I. This can. probably 
be most easily achieved by the use of four flood-lights, all on dimmers. Two 
should be so adjusted as to light the front part of the stage. They may be 
placed in the wings, if there is room; in the side balconies of the audience 
room, if there are such; or at opposite sides of a rear balcony. A third should 
be placed off right and raised so as to throw the light down over the top 
of the “wall.” The fourth is used behind the back wall at right, so as to throw 
the light on the back-drop, or curtain. By using flood-lights instead of the 
usual strip lights at sides and overhead, it is possible to produce very beautiful 
changes of color by the use of colored gelatin slides, which may be simply 
held before the lens of each “flood.” The following colors ‘should be used, in 
the order named: straw; light amber; dark amber; light magenta; dark magenta; 
light navy blue. The flood which lights the right side (player’s right) of the 
front stage should be dimmed more rapidly, and its color changed in each 


3 


case sooner than that of the other lights. By a little experimentation charming 
effects may be achieved. For instance, when the light on the court, or front 
stage, has dimmed to the cool blue of dusk (about the time the women come 
in with tea and lamps), there may still be a faint violet glow on the back- 
drop (produced by combining the magenta and blue slides), A moment later 
the effect of moonlight coming from the opposite side may be suggested by 
increasing the light from the flood which lights the left side of the front 
stage, and combining the straw-colored slide with the blue. In case the flood- 
lights are not available, this effect may be approximated by the use of three 
stereopticons, and the gelatin slides. It will do no harm if the light is some- 
what dim throughout the first scene. 

No special effects are called for in Scene II. The light throughout should 
be the warm golden glow of afternoon sunlight. This may be obtained by 
the use of ordinary strip lights, at the sides of the stage, and overhead, or 
by using the straw-colored slides in all three stereopticons. Footlights should 
be used only as a last resort. 


Costumes.’ The Persian man’s costume consists of a pair of wide white trousers, 
very full at the top and gathered about the waist by a cord, and very narrow 
at the ankle—these may be made of ordinary white cotton; two coats with a 
tightly fitted, short waist, and a skirt gathered slightly to the waist section, 
and reaching about to the knee or a little above—these may be made of 
sateen, the inner one plain, the outer figured; a red fez, or peaked cap; and 
a long strip of cloth wound about the fez for a turban. The turbans are 
white, except for that of the Dervish, which must be green, since he has made 
the Great Pilgrimage. 

The traditional costume of the Persian woman is somewhat complicated. 
She wears a pair of long black trousers, not quite so full at the top as those 
of the men. For the desert-dwellers, these may be made of ordinary cotton 
cloth; for the city women, they should be of sateen. As a matter of fact, they 
are often made of black velvet. Over this garment she wears an extremely 
short and full petticoat of heavy white cotton, edged with embroidery. Over 
this comes her skirt, also very short and full. For the village women, these 
skirts may be made of figured cotton; for the city woman, the skirt should 
be of taffeta. These skirts reach just below the hips. Then a white “shirt,” 
or inner jacket, is put on, falling slightly over the top of the skirt. This may 
be made of white cotton, the lower edge, fronts, and bottoms of the sleeves 
being trimmed with embroidery. Over this goes the outer jacket, which is 
about the same length as the shirt, but is left open down the front, to show 
the white underneath, and has shorter sleeves. This should be made of velvet, 
or velveteen, and embroidered with floral motifs, which may be appliqued. 
Then she places over her head the “chirada,” which is a large square of 
white flowered cotton, or a dainty print with a white background, folded 
cornerwise and pinned under her chin, so as to leave a point in the middle 
of the back. 

All this, however, is merely her indoor dress, which she may wear in the 
seclusion of the anderunt or women’s quarters. When she comes into the 
beiruni, or public court, where she may expect to meet the men of the family, 
and possibly guests, she puts over this dress her indoor chudder. This is merely 
a huge semi-circular piece of goods, of which the center of the straight side 


_ 1A full set of these costumes has been prepared for rental by the Pageants and Exhibits 
Division of the Committee on Conservation and Advance of the Methodist Episcopal Church, 
740 Rush Street, Chicago, Ill. 











is placed over the forehead and drawn back snugly about the head. Then 
the rest of the material falls about the person, Sore to the ankles, and 
giving the effect of a long circular cape. This may be made of a soft cotton 
print, or a silk-and-cotton mixture, for the desert women; for the city women, 
it should be of silk, preferably a material that has a slight wiry quality. The 
pattern should be in stripes. When the Persian woman ventures out on to the 
street, she must add the traditional black chudder, which envelops her from 
head to foot. This consists of a full skirt sewed to a wide belt, to which are 
attached string ties with which she fastens the loose skirt about her waist. 
Another strip of black goods is sewed to the skirt about a foot below the 
belt. This strip is at least a yard wide, and is drawn up over the head and then 
held together in front, so as to conceal the person entirely. This garment 
may be made of ordinary cotton cloth, for the desert women; for the city 
women, it should be made of sateen, of a fine quality. 

The custom is changing so rapidly as regards the use of the veil that it 
is impossible to give any fixed rule for it. The conservative woman of the 
city would probably still wear the white face veil, which fastens about the 
head, over the black chudder, and falls down almost to the waist-line in front. 
A narrow oblong section is cut out over the eyes, but this is covered by a 
strip of fine net. This makes it possible for the wearer to see out, but impos- 
sible for anyone to see her eyes. The progressive modern woman has generally 
discarded this badge of seclusion and has substituted for it the new black 
“veil” worn largely in Cairo. This is nothing more than a small square, or 
oblong, of a stiff black net, bound at the edges and having ties attached. It 
is actually made of horse-hair and, amusingly enough, is manufactured in 
France. This shield is placed over the top of the head, under the black 
chudder, and fastened so as to extend several inches out over the forehead. 
The older, or more timorous, woman may tip this ‘veil’? down over her face 
so as to conceal her eyes from the passerby; but the true “modern” wears it 
in a horizontal position and looks out upon the world with fearless eyes. 

In this play we have both the conservative and progressive types repre- 
sented. The different articles of dress should be worn as follows: In Scene I, 
when Rogieh and her mother first appear, they are about to go out, and 
therefore they wear the enveloping black chudder. The white face veil is 
optional. When they come out from the anderuni later, to serve tea, they 
have discarded the black chudder, and wear the indoor chudder. In Scene II, 
Fatimah at her first appearance may wear the indoor chudder somewhat 
negligently, allowing it to fall apart in front so as to show the picturesque 
costume underneath. When she appears in the balcony, while the men are 
drinking tea, she may wear it in the same careless fashion until the moment 
when she perceives the strangers; then she clutches the chudder about her, 
hiding even her face, as she retreats. The next time she comes in, she is a 
little more cautious. Zeinab and Sakineh have become so modernized that 
they wear European dresses in the privacy of their own quarters, and even 
in the beiruni may allow the indoor chudder to fall apart so as to show the 
dainty silk of a Parisian frock underneath. However, on the entrance of the 
visitors, they draw the chudder closely about them, holding a fold of the silk 
across the face so that only the eyes are seen. And at their first entrance, 
having been on the street, they are shrouded in black. On ascending to the 
balcony, they throw back the upper part of the black chudder, unfasten the 
ties at the waist, and allow the whole garment to slip to the floor. Then they 
step out of it and push it back out of the way with their feet. 


1See illustrations, p. 12, for a better understanding of the women’s costume. 


o 


The Aga Ali has also become sufficiently modern to discard at least a 
part of the traditional Persian costume. He may be dressed in a European 
business suit, with a small round cap made of black fur such as astrakhan; 
or it is possible that he would wear European trousers but retain the figured 
coat with the gathered skirt. It is altogether likely that he would wear Euro- 
pean shoes, as would Zeinab and Sakineh. All the other characters should 
wear soft slippers of leather or felt. 


Make-up. The Persians belong to the white race, but their coloring is, in 
general, darker than that of the English, for example. However, they should 
not be made to look like Arabs, who, while Semitic, are deeply browned by 
the hot sun. It might be well to make the men of the desert village somewhat 
darker than the city merchant. The complexion of the women is well pro- 
tected and should therefore be fair, Dark brown eyes and brown or black 
hair would be realistic. It should be remembered also that exceedingly heavy 
eyebrows are admired in Persia. In fact the description of a beauty will 
often include the point that her eyebrows meet in a straight line across 
her forehead. The most essential part of the make-up consists in beards for 
the men. These should not be omitted under any circumstances, since the 
wearing of a beard is considered as a duty by all orthodox Moslems. It is 
more satisfactory, generally, to use crépe hair—which is attached to the face 
with spirit gum, and can then easily be trimmed to make a natural effect—than 
it is to rent beards ready-made. The Dervish may have a long beard of iron-’ 
gray; Hussein, a bushy black beard; Ali, one of trimmer effect; and Kasim, 
a very short, close beard, or possibly none. 

In considering physical characteristics, it may be well to remember that 
the traditional ideas of feminine beauty in Persia do not run to slenderness, 
and that a favorite phrase in describing the face of the beloved is “the moon 
in its fourteenth night.” 


Furniture. Cushions are the only necessary furniture in either scene. These 
should be very thick and rather hard. The seat cushion of a modern “over- 
stuffed” chair would serve the purpose. If one or two cylindrical cushions, 
in bolster effect, can be procured, or made, so much the better. The cushions 
are not so much to sit upon as to lean against, when seated on the rug. There 
should be at least one for the Dervish in Scene I, and in Scene II, the two 
guests should have them placed for their convenience; and also the women 
in the balcony. A brazier would add realism and local color. 


Properties. In Scene I, the following properties are needed: two water-jars 
(of pottery, in Oriental design); two prayer-rugs (small narrow rugs of a 
rather soft weave, that can be easily folded and tucked into the belt); two 
lamps (which may be ordinary kerosene lamps of European manufacture), or 
one lamp and one large candle in a high candle-stick; the tea-service, consisting 
of a tray, three small cups, and a metal tea-pot hung on a standard over a 
small stove, somewhat like a Russian samovar in design. In addition, if desired, 
there may be a basin and pitcher of water, for the ceremonial hand: washing. 

The only properties required in Scene II are the articles of the tea-service, 
which should be of the same general nature as Hake in Scene I, but should 
be richer in material and ornamentation. 


Music. The melody of Kasim’s song, which is to be sung off- stage, at the 
beginning of the play, will be found Bai page 8. 











A very good record is made by the Victor Company giving the Call to 
Prayer in Arabic. This may be successfully used if the phonograph is placed 
at a sufficient distance from the audience (back-stage) so as to minimize the 
mechanical effect. It will be just as well if the “Call” seems to come from a 
considerable distance. This record will be much more realistic than an Amer- 
ican imitation is likely to be. However, if it is desired to have one of the 
players give the Call to Prayer, the musical setting may be found in Lane’s 
Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians. 

In cases where the alternative ending is used for Scene I, the music speci- 
fied is, “The March of the Magi Kings,” an organ composition, but if an organ 
is not available, it would be wiser to substitute a composition better suited 


to the-piano. 


Miscellaneous notes. The ritual of the Evening Prayer, which should be carried 
out by the Dervish and Kasim in Scene I, may be found in Lane’s Manners and 
Customs of the Modern Egyptians, with pictures showing the exact forms of 
prostrations, etc. 

The etiquette of serving tea, if carried out completely, is as follows: First, 
a basin and a pitcher of water are brought to each person. The hands are 
held over the basin and the water is poured over them.? As each man receives 
his cup, he murmurs, “Shuk’r Allah” (Thanks to God). After the guests have 
finished their tea, they say to the host, “Allah barakakum” (God bless you 
abundantly). 


Pronunciation. The following are phonetic pronunciations given as accurately 
as is possible inasmuch as certain sounds are unfamiliar to Western people. 


Names of the characters: 
Kau’ sIM Aun’ GAH AH’ LEE 
Faun’ ti-MAuH (The second syllable 


Ro’ KEE-AY : 
is scarcely sounded) 


Lay’ LA 


esate ety ater ZAY’ NUB 

Dair-vEESH’ May’ DEE Moor’ sHID Shar REE NAY 

Aun’ GAn Hus-sayn’ MoNn-s00’ REE 
Other proper names: 

AHL-LAH’ (Allah) TaAy-RAHN’ (Tehran) 

\ i ,. / *. 7 r 
ReaeeK an) AH’ BOO AW" LEE SEE’ NAH 
(Abu Ali Sina) 

ErE-RAHK’ (Iraq) Er’ mom Ris’ aw (Imam Riza) 
Other words: 

BaAy-roon’ EE (Beirunt) ON-DE-ROON’ EE (Anderunt) 

Cuay’ LA (Chela) Pee’ LAF (Pilaf) 


Fer-ENG’ GEE (Hard “g”) (Firenght) SHeEr’ AH (Shia) 

GrE-HAN’ NuM (Soft “g”) (Jehannum)  Str-oc’ co (Sirocco) 

Hay’ JEE (Broad “a”) (Hajjt) Soo’ FEE (Sufi) 

KHAN (Broad “a”) Soon’ NEE (Sunni) 
Vi 1a (Long “i’—Vate) 


2In Scene I, this ceremony should properiy be performed by the Dervish and Kasim before 
their Evening Prayer, and therefore need not be repeated before the serving of the tea, which 
follows this so closely. 


A Persian Rose 


Kasim’s Song 













































































H. L. Witicox 
7s Ee eee: 2 eS 
One light - ly touched the Rose, and _ said: 
2 aria ate) 
= eS See eee = 
G feted ofS et a 
is but thorns, It is but thorns! An - oth - er,  paus-ing, 
D -: a a pee = +— 
Fee oe see ee 
gazed, and cried: Nay, Beau - ty too! A third looked 
a ox oN 
~ oN o~ Ret 
SS SS ey 
os meets s, 
in - to its heart and sighed: More, Love is here. 











FOR PARTIAL PRODUCTION 


There may be groups that would like to include a brief dramatic presenta- 
tion as a part of a program, but would not care to use a play of this length. For 
such groups the following arrangement is suggested as practicable, though it 
is not particularly recommended. The first scene may be omitted, and the sec- 
end scene introduced by a speech made by the servant Mansouri, in character, 
as he appears in the play. 


Introductory Speech 
To be used when Scene I is omitted 


Mansouri comes out from the men’s quarters, at left, and ascends 
the small platform at left front. He puts his finger to his lips and 
looks cautiously about, to make sure no one is listening. 


Mansourt: S-s-s-sh! I will tell you a secret. My master is in trouble. 
And, especially, my mistress! What! You do not know my master? He 
is the Aga Ali, who has a house in the Ispahan Road, near the fruit 
bazaar. He is well known to the people of Tehran because he is so 
hospitable. And, besides, he belongs to a good family. I, Mansouri, am 
proud to serve him! . 

But now, the hand of Allah is heavy upon him, and he knows not 
which way to turn. You see, he has a daughter. Several years ago, she 
was betrothed to the son of Aga Hussein. He is the Khan, or Headman, 
of a village out on the edge of the desert. The son’s name is Kasim. Of 
course, no one at my master’s house has ever seen him, but it, is rumored 
that he is a fine and manly youth. 

Zeinab, my master’s daughter, is now fifteen years old, and Aga Hus- 
sein came about a week ago to make arrangements for the wedding. Now 
this put my master into a difficult position. Let me see—have I told you 
about Cousin Sakineh? No? Well, my master has a cousin who is a 
widow, about twenty-three years old. She lives with the family, and has 
a great influence over Zeinab. In fact, the whole trouble is largely her 
fault! She has taught the girl all sorts of strange ideas, and has taken 
her to hear speeches by the Firenghi, the Westerners, even by Christians. 
Indeed, I have reason to suspect that she has a copy of the Sacred Book of 
the Infidels! 

But of all the foolishness she has put into the child’s head, the worst 
is this: she has persuaded her that she is too young to marry!) So—Zeinab 
refuses to be married now. Whoever heard of a well-brought-up Moslem 
girl doing such a thing? 

The Khan stayed here two whole days, arguing about the matter, but 
my master would not force his daughter to be married against her will, 
and she would not give in. Finally, Aga Hussein went home, very angry! 
My mistress, Fatimah, has been wailing and scolding about the house 
ever since. 

But that is not the worst of it! I’m going to tell you something that no 


Y) 


one in my master’s household knows. I heard it from a servant in a - 


country inn, some miles outside the city. He says that two days ago, a 
wandering Dervish stopped at the inn, His name is Mehdi Murshid, and 
he has often been a guest in the house of Aga Ali. My master likes to 
hear him talk. Well, this time, he was on his way back from the Great 
Pilgrimage to Mecca, and a few days before, he had stopped at the house 
of Aga Hussein, the father of Kasim. In fact, he was there when the 
Khan returned from his visit here, and my friend overheard him telling 
someone what happened. It seems that when the Khan reported the state 
of affairs here, Kasim was at first very angry, and threatened to come with 
the men of his tribe and carry off my master’s daughter by force. But 
then, his heart turned completely around in him, and he resolved to forget 
Zeinab entirely—to put away the thought of marriage, and go out with 
the wandering Dervish, as a Seeker after Truth. And sure enough, there 
he was at the inn with the Dervish—as proper a chela as ever you saw! 
My friend thought they were bound for Tehran, but (he looks off, right 
back)—hush! I cannot tell you any more, because I hear my mistress, 
Fatimah, coming out on to the women’s balcony. And now I remember, I 
must go to bring the young mistress and her cousin home from a meeting ! 
(He makes a low bow and goes out, left front.) 


Note. It is perhaps hardly necessary to add that if this arrangement is 
used, the players should be thoroughly familiar with the text of Scene T. 


10 











CHARACTERS 


Kasim, son of Aga Hussein 

Roaten, his sister, a girl about fourteen years of age 

Leixa, his mother 

Dervish Merenupi Mursuip, a wandering dervish, a 
man of middle age 


Aca Hussern, the Khan of the village, a man about 
forty years of age 


~ = Aca Aut, a merchant of Tehran, a man about thirty- 
five years of age 


FaTIMAH, his wife, a woman about thirty years of age, 
but appearing much older 

ZEINAB, their daughter, a girl fifteen years of age 

SAKINEH, a cousin of Ali, a widow about twenty-three 
years of age but appearing somewhat older 

Mansour, a man-servant in the house of Aga Ali 


11 





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2 





KASIM 


SCENETI 


SettinG. The beiruni (public court) of the dwelling of Aga Hussein, the Khan of * 
a Persian village in the region of Tehran. At the rear a wide doorway opens on 
to the desert country, with a glimpse of snow-capped peaks in the distance against 
the blue sky. There is a door at left leading to the men’s sleeping quarters, and 
one at right leading to the anderuni, or women’s side of the house. There is no 
furniture, but there should be a platform about six feet square and six or eight 
inches high, at left front. This should be covered with a Persian rug. The walls 
should be a light gray. At the beginning of the scene the rays of the setting sun 
pour into the court through the opening at the rear, slanting from the right; and 
also from overhead at right, since the court is unroofed. This throws the right side 
of the court into shadow, which deepens until dusk, when the moonlight falls on that 
side of the court. The time is just before sunset on a summer evening. The court 
is empty. 





As the auditorium is darkened for the play to begin, a man’s voice is 
heard from off left, singing the follow ng .song (see page 8): 


One lightly touched the Rose, and said: 
“Tt is but thorns!” 

Another, pausing, gazed and cried: 
“Nay-—Beauty, too!’ 

A third looked into its heart, and sighed: 
“More: Love is here!” 


During the singing Rogieh comes in quietly from right, listens an 
imstant, then laughs silently, motioning to someone off right, her finger 
on her lips. On the last note of the song she breaks out in @ trill of 
laughter and moves a few steps toward center. Kasim enters from left. 


RogigH: Singing of your bride again, brother? (Turning off right) 
Mother, did you hear? She is a rose! Whoever thought of such a 
thing before! 


Kasim, startled, is inclined for a moment to resent her badinage. Then 
he turns with a shrug and comes down to the platform at left front, 
where he seats himself cross-legged on the rug, looking straight out 
front. This action does not interrupt Rogieh, who goes right on 
speaking, only coming down a few steps, at right. At the same time 
Leila enters, right, and pauses near center. 

Yesterday, she was “the moon in its fourteenth night.” 
(IVith mock sympathy) But truly, Kasim, the more you dream of her 
beauty, the more sadly disappointed you may be. Suppose she is not 
beautiful at all? 


13 


Kasim: (Still looking straight out, and speaking in a low voice, as though 
to himself) I shall have had the dreams. (Then, speaking quickly over 
his shoulder) But she is beautiful! At the betrothal it was said— 


Rogen: “It was said!” Yes, by her own family. You know very well 
that none of us were there—except our father—and of course he did 
not see her. 


LeiLa: Come, Roqieh, we must get the water. And you should not tease 
your brother. A young man must have some picture in his mind of 
the girl he is to marry. That is only natural. (Turning to Kasim) 
And not all bridegrooms are disappointed, my son. 


RogreH: Well, he will soon know the worst. Father should return home 
tonight, and (eagerly) if all has gone well in Tehran, we shall have the 
wedding soon—shall we not, Mother? 


Leita: Very soon, I think. Come, child! (She goes back, takes up a 
water-jar from the ground, places it on her shoulder, and starts to go 
out at rear.) 


RogieH: But it is almost the hour of evening prayer. Is it safe to leave 
Kasim alone? Last night I caught him bowing toward Tehran instead 
of Mecca. (She runs down to center front and points off right.) That 
way is south, brother. (Leila goes out rear, turning to right. Roqieh 
runs back laughing merrily, takes up her water-jar and pauses in the 
opening at rear, looking off right. Immediately she runs back, comes 
down front, and speaks quietly.) Brother, the Dervish, Mehdi Murshid 
is here! He has just come by the desert road—from the south. 


Kasim: (Jumping up eagerly) From the south! Returning from the 
Pilgrimage! (With awe) He has seen Mecca! 


RogigeH: (Turning toward rear) He is here! 


Mehdi enters at rear. Rogieh passes him silently and goes out. Kasim 
goes quickly to meet him at center, drops on his knees, bends low, and 
places lis hands on Mehdi’s feet, then bends to kiss them. Mehdi ' 
leans over and lifts him tenderly. 


Meupr: (With feeling) My son, my son! 


Kasim is incoherent from excitement and awe. Still on his knees, he 
lifts the hem of Mehdi’s robe and murmurs. 


Kasim: The dust of the Sacred City! (He es his head and rubs the 
cloth upon his cheeks reverently.) 


Meupr: (Smiling indulgently, as if in vicarious sympathy with Kasim’s 
ecstasy) Dust, indeed—and plenty of it! (Half to himself) But the 
sand of the desert is cleaner. Rise, my son, and embrace me. 


14 











Kasim rises and they embrace. Then Kasim takes a step backward and 
surveys Mehdi. 


Kasim: The green turban! (With a low bow) Hajji—my father! 


Meupt: Yes, I have made the Great Pilgrimage; and, not being so young 
as you, | am weary. 


Kasim: Forgive me, my father! Come and rest. (He leads Mehdi to the 
platform and hovers about him as he seats himself on the rug.) Th 
women have gone for water and soon we shall have tea. : 


Meupr: (Sighing) That is well. (He looks closely at Kasim) And 
while we wait, you shall tell me to what your destiny has led you in my 
absence, son of my heart. 


Kasim: I am to be married. My father went to Tehran three days ago to 
complete the arrangements. He should be at home tonight. 


Meupr: (Slowly) Ah? So! Strange, how that which is to be can 
change us. 


Kasim: Change? You find me—different ? 


Meupt: (Gazing at him for a moment without speaking) I thought so, 
for a little. Now I perceive that it is but the difference of the desert, 
which at the hour of sunset vibrates tenderness through all its breathing 
and, in the blue-gold silence of the dawn, lifts us above our human selves 
and human loves into the stern beauty of Allah. 


Kasim: (After thinking deeply) I had thought the dawn-light was over 
for me, but—O my father, when you stood before me, and I knew you 
came from Mecca, it rose again in my heart. I forgot my bride! 


Menor: I shall pray to Allah that the dawn-light may never fail for you, 
my son. 


Kastm: What does it mean? It comes upon me when the dream. of hap- 
piness has wrapped me round and folds me in great silence where my- 
self{—my dreams—are lost—and there is nothing but a Voice that calls— 
and calls—I know not whence, or whither. I only feel that I must 
follow. 


Meupr: Do I not know, my son? I have followed the Voice through a 
lifetime of wandering—and finally, I have followed it to Mecca. 


Kasim: (With a keen look) And the Pilgrimage has brought you—? 


Menpi: (With a little shrug) Wisdom it is well to have—though dis- 
appointing. 


Kasim: (Shocked) You were disappointed—in Mecca? 


15 


Menpr: (Slowly) Everything is bought and sold—in Mecca. But faith 
and peace come not through barter. I have known truer Seekers in the 
Wilderness. (/Te turns with a self-quizzical smile to Kasim.) This too 
I learned, that Pride has his hand upon the camel-goad,of many a 
pilgrim—aye, and even pricks some of us who go afoot. 


Kasim smiles affectionately in response to this self-revelation; then 
sighs and looks away. 


Kasim: But, my father, before you went to Mecca—where had your seek- 
ing led? 


Meupi: (After thought) My seeking has not led to much, Kasim. In 
the eyes of the world, to nothing. I have not even a home in which to 
rest from my long journey. But here and there along the way a young 
soul waits my coming—looks to me for a rekindling of the dawn-light of 
which we spoke—and loves me. These are the homes of my spirit— 
more precious than palaces. And dearest of all art thou, my son. 


Kasim: (Musing) It is strange! 


Meupr: I-believe it is thy destiny to find what I have only sought. 
(Eagerly) When I am rested, I have much to tell you! I have talked 
with pilgrims from all the lands where men bless the name of the Holy 
Prophet—upon him be peace! 


Kasim: Ah! I should like to have been there! 


Menpr: There is a pulse a-thrill from Egypt to Bombay—from the Gold 
Coast to Shanghai! I do not know its meaning fully—cannot see—but 
you will see! In your time it will be clear. And so—(he finishes with 
great tenderness )—through you, though I am here no longer, shall my 
seeking find its goal. 


Kasim: (Wrapt im revery) And—Mecca—? 


Meupr: (Understanding the incomplete question) Ah!—Mecca is the 
symbol of the Search; and so, when I bow my body toward the Holy 
City, my spirit bows before that inner Light that leads men on. 


Kasim is thinking deeply. Through the silence comes the call of the 
muezzin to evening prayer. Quietly, Mehdi and Kasim spread their 
prayer rugs and kneel, facing south (right). They go through the 
prescribed movements. The light changes from rose to violet. As they 
rise, the women enter hastily from rear. 


RogieH: (Standing in the doorway and pointing off left rear) It is my 
father! I am sure that is his horse. 


Kasim: (Running to door and looking off, left) You are right, Roqieh! 
It is indeed my father. (Coming down, excitedly) In five minutes he 
will be here, and I shall know when the wedding is to be! 


16 











The women hasten out, right. 


Menpt: (Seating himself again on the platform, snuiling with sympathetic 
“interest) Let me see—I remember! You were betrothed to the daugh- 
ter of a merchant of Tehran? 


Kasim: Yes—a good family. She is now fifteen years old, and my father 
said we should be married. 


Meupt: (Nodding silently, then turning to Kasim with @ quizzical but 
friendly smile) So you will soon be lording it over a young bride, How 
will you tame her if she be wilful? 


Kasim: (Smiling a little, then sobering suddenly and looking off) There 
is a question I would ask you, O my father. 


Menpi: Yes? 
Kasim: Must a wife be tamed? Is there—no other way? 


Menpr: “Other way”? What is it that knocks at the gates of your under- 
standing, my son? 


Kasim : I will tell you. I must tell you! I went with my father to Tehran 
on his last trip. I saw a picture at the Cinema theater. 


Meupr: (Nodding) I have seen such—twice. 


Kasim: An American play it was, and it showed a young man and his 
wife, in their home. They did not live with his people—they had a home 
of their own. 


Menupr: Yes—yes. That is true. 


Kasim: (With growing eagerness) But that was not the strangest thing. 
(He hesitates, feeling for words) Hehe did not even try to tame her. 
He did not tell her what to do! They seemed to decide things together. 
Why—(he pauses as if fearing that what he has to say will be incredible) 
—it was almost as if they were friends. 


Mehdi is watching Kasim keenly, with a sort of repressed excitement. 


Kasim: (With a sudden revulsion of feeling, as if half-ashamed of his 
credulity) Of course, it is probably not true. It is just what someone 
has imagined, but— 

Menpt: It is a part of that whereof I spoke—that new pulse throbbing 
‘n the world of Islam! Men are dreaming of it in Morocco, and in 
India; in Syria, and on the Nile. 


Kasim: Dreaming! Ha! My little sister thinks I have been dreaming of 
thei beauty of my bride. It is true that I have thought of that, but the 
thing that has held me in the courts of Silence for months past has been 


17 





the dream of this—this love that has the strength and loyalty of friend- 
ship—this friendship that has the ecstasy of love. My father, tell me 
the truth! Do you believe it can be—possible ? 


Meupr: (Looking Kasim squarely in the eyes) I do believe it. 


Kasim leaps to his feet and stands looking straight out, tense with a 
great exaltation and a great purpose. Before he has time to speak, 
Leila and Rogieh enter, right. Leila brings two lamps, or lanterns, 
which she places, one on a platform, or ona standard, at right, and the 
other at left. She then withdraws to the doorway, at rear, to watch 
for the Khan. Rogieh brings a tray with tea-things, which she places 
on the platform at Kasim’s right. Then she goes to doorway at rear. 
Kasim pours the tea and passes a cup to Mehdi, then takes one him- 
self. Mehdi murmurs “Shuk’r Allah!” and drinks. Kasim also drinks. 
When he has finished, Mehdi puts his cup on the floor, and Kasim does 
likewise. 
RogieH: (Dashing out to meet the Khan) Father! 

The mother also steps outside for the greeting. Kasim rises quickly 
and crosses to right center to meet his father. As the Khan enters, 


the two women enter behind him and slip out quietly, right. Kasim 
bows low before the Khan. 


Kasim: My father! “Welcome! See, the Dervish, Mehdi Murshid, is 
here—home from the Pilgrimage! 


The Khan comes down and bows low before Mehdi, with every sign 
of deference, placing his hands upon those of the Dervish. 





HusseE1n: Hajji, you are thrice welcome! 


Kasim: (Unable to contain his anxiety any longer) And the wedding, 
Father? What of the wedding? Is the day fixed upon? 


HussEIn: (Stiffening with indignation) They have all gone mad together ! 
Your bride is maddest of all! 


Kasim: Ha! What is this? 
Meupi: What words are these! 


Under the exclamations of the men are heard faint, repressed screams 
of excitement from the women, who have remained in the passage at 
right, to hear the news. 


Husse1n: They have laughed at my beard! Ha! The man is ruled by a 
girl-child! His own daughter! 


Kasim: (Getting his breath) My father! What has happened ? 


18 





Hussein: (Passing his hand across his eyes with a sigh of great weariness ) 
Ah! The wings of my soul are weary! Let me rest. (//e moves toward 
the platform, and Kasim hastens to pour lum some tea.) 


Meupt: (Nodding sympathetically) Anger is hard labor to the spirit. 
Kasim: Rest, my father, and drink some tea! 


The Khan seats himself on the platform. Kasim hands a cup of tea to 
his father, who takes it, murmuring, “Shuk’r Allah!’ He drinks. The 
two women can be seen peering anxiously into the court from the 
passage at right. During the conversation that follows, they make 
excited whispered comments to each other. Now and then, in a pause, 
one is audible. 


Kasim: (Unable to restrain his impatience longer) My father, cannot 
you tell us, now, what has happened ? 


Hussein: (Grimly) Yes—I will tell you! The men of Tehran have 
handed the reins of their households over to the women! At least, the 
father of your bride has done so—and many others. 


Kasim and Mehdi gaze at him in incredulous silence. He looks from 
one to the other, sees their unbelief, and speaks sharply. 


You think my mind 
is loosed from its moorings? It would not be strange, after what 1 
have seen and heard! But I am telling you the truth. 


Kasia: But—the betrothal? The wedding? 


Hussein: (With scornful sarcasm) The wedding, my son, will take 
place when the bride determines upon the date. 


Kasim: (Utterly at sea) Wha—what is your meaning, my father? 


Hussein: Well, well—how should I expect you to comprehend, all in a 
moment, what required two days to penetrate to the outer court of my 
own understanding! I suppose I must begin at the beginning (thought- 
fully), though how far back that goes, I do not know—perhaps to the 
first mother. (He sinks into thought.) 


Kasim: Yes, Father? 


Hussern: (Beginning his tale with an effort) The father of your bride 
received me with all hospitality. I had sent a message saying I would 
visit him to complete arrangements for the wedding, and I could not 
ep as why it was so difficult to bring him to the point—until after- 
wards! 


Kasim: Was he not satisfied ? 


19 


Hussein: Yes. We went over all the details, and he professed himself 
much pleased—but still he balked at fixing on a day. 


Kasim: (Alarmed) Has anything happened to——? 


Hussein: To your bride? No—nothing except that she has gone mad, as 
I told you. 


Kasim: But I do not wish to marry a mad woman! 


HussEIN: (Grimly) This madness may be cured—if taken in time. But 
her father—pouf! A weakling! 


Throughout the following scene Mehdi watches the Khan and Kasim, 
especially the latter, with intense and sympathetic interest. 


Meup1: How does her infirmity manifest itself, Aga? 


HussEIN: (Counting off the points on his fingers, as having memorized 
a difficult lesson) She will not marry until she is older—she will have 
a hand in choosing her husband—Humph!—she will not live the veiled 
life of her mother—and all decent women—but must be free to go and 
come as she pleases, 


Kasim: (Still bewildered) But her husband is already chosen. I am he! 
And as to the kind of life she will lead—that will be for me to say. 


Hussein: (/ronically) She thinks not. 


Kasim: (Strutting; for the moment quite the young lord of creation) 
Ha! She will find out the length of her tether when I get my hand on it! 


Mehdi looks at him with a little thoughtful smile. 
Why does not her father command her to get ready? 


Ffussein: (Looking quickly at his son, then away, and musing for a 
moment) Strange matters are afoot in Tehran. It seems that some 
years ago a group of women got together secretly and swore they would 
not allow their daughters to marry until they had reached a certain age. 


Kasim: But why? 


HusskE1n : Well—they had heard, somewhere, that the women of the West 
are married later, and that they do not grow old so soon. Moreover, a 
foreign doctor, in the hospital, had persuaded them that more of their 
babies would live to grow up. 


Kasim: How absurd! 


Hussein: We do not know, my son, whether that is absurd or not—but 
there are enough who do grow up, as it is! 


20 











His wife, in doorway at right, hfts a hand in silent protest, but the 
men do not see. 


However, this secret society 
of women has grown until it numbers hundreds. Their daughters have 
been taught to think of marriage, and of life, in a new light. They have 
learned many things. Some of them can read and write. They claim 
they have a right to education—to more time to prepare for the respon- 
sibilities of life—more time to enjoy their girlhood. 


that Zeinab—has heard of all this? 


Hussein: Heard of it! She is in the thick of it. She goes to meetings— 
studies English with a Firenghi woman—has opinions on_ political 
conditions. 


Kasim: You mean that my 





Kasim: Her mother—she is a member of that Society? 


Hussein: No; I believe her mother is a good woman-—but she cannot 
control her daughter ! 


Kasim: But how does all this prevent her father from arranging for the 
wedding? 


Hussein: (Slowly, evidently trying to be fair) Her father, also, has 
heard strange things. He has talked with men of the West—with travel- 
ers from the East. He told me that hundreds of Chinese women are 
studying in universities and schools! He says that in Constantinople 
and in Cairo women go freely about the streets unattended! 


Kasim: There are many Christians in those cities. 


Husse1n: But these are Moslem women. There are men, of his acquain- 
tance who begin to wonder. 


Menptr: (Speaking half unconsciously) The pulse throbs even in Tehran. 


Kasim: (Sternly, not noticing the Dervish's remark) And therefore, he 
refuses to consummate the marriage ? : 


HusseEIn: He does not refuse. But he is unwilling to force his daughter 
to marry against her will. His counsel is to wait for time to change her 
point of view, and her interests. (Jn spite of himself a note of irony 
creeps into his tone at the end of this speech.) 


Kasim: But we are betrothed. She belongs to me. To our family. If her 
father is to be allowed to repudiate his obligations in this way, what 
becomes of law, and justice? 


Hussein: (With a hopeless shrug) Two days have I consumed with 
words, my son, and it was unavailing, 


Kasim: (With sudden violence) I shall not trust to words. The time 
has come for deeds. Zeinab is mine. By the beard of the Imam Riza, I 
shall take her! 


The two older men look up at the youth, startled. The Khan gazes at 
him as if suddenly realizing that he has grown up. He speaks to his 
son, not as to a child, but as to a man. 


Hussein: How will you take her, Kasim? Tehran is a large city, well 
guarded by police. 


Kasim: I can easily gather half a hundred of our tribe—or more. 
The Khan nods. 


I will lead them to a place outside the city. Then I shall reconnoitre, 
and lay my plans for the attack. On the second night, I shall bring her 
away. (The gleam of triumph is in his eye. It is clear that he fancies 
himself in a herotc role.) 

Hussein: (After thinking intently, rising quickly) They have laughed 
at our beards! I will go with you, my son, and we shall take your bride, 
as befits strong and valiant men! 


Kasim: (Realizing that the Dervish is silent) Hajji, is not my plan a 
good one? 


Meupi: (Slowly) The oasis of your dream will hardly be possessed by 
force of arms, Kasim. 


Kasim: (After a startled instant) Dreams can wait, my father. This is a 
time for action. 


Menpt: Hasty action has dried the springs of many a dream. 


Kasim attempts to swagger, 1s uncertain, finally yields to the mys- 
terious influence of the Dervish. 


Kasim: Hajji, you have drained the fighting blood from my heart. But 
—what else is there to do? 


Menp!: Wait, my son, in patience, for a time. 


Hussein: (Who feels himself somewhat left out) Perhaps it would be 
wiser to give them a little more time. 


Kasim: Oh, it is easy for old men to counsel patience! 


The Khan straightens lis shoulders and opens his mouth to protest, 
but lets it pass. 


I will have her now, 
or else forget her! After all, she is only a woman; why should I be 


bo 
bo 











eating so much grief! Marriage would interfere with my search—almost 
certainly it would. (To the Dervish) You.have said I should succeed 
in that! And that is older and deeper in my heart than—this other, 
which is only a dream. (He is evidently torn between two elements in 
his nature, and speaks jerkily, with pauses between, almost UNCONSCIOUS 
of the others.) Why should I not be free—to follow the Quest un- 
hampered? I am a wanderer at heart! I too must talk with pilgrims 
from afar. I must know what men are dreaming, in Iraq, and in Cathay! 
(He stands silent for a moment, head lifted, the ecstasy of the mystic im 
his eyes. Then he turns suddenly to the Dervish.) Hajji, I will go with 
you! I will fold up the carpet of my dreams and go out upon the Quest. 
As your disciple will I go—(with tender playfulness)—if you will 
have me. 





Meuptr: (Rising, almost overwhelmed) My son—my son! (He embraces 
Kasim.) So, every camp upon the desert would be home. Ah—no! I 
am not worthy—too much happiness—and you— (he is almost breathless 
with his inner struggle )—your path lies not that way.—I said that you 
will find—True! But first you must find a surer way of seeking —You 
must learn—far more than I can teach you. No—no! It is not as my 
disciple that you will find the Truth. (He gives a great sigh and sits 
suddenly, as though spent.) Ah—me! In youth we fancy that age frees 
us from temptations ! 


Kastm: (Vaguely puzzled by the depth of his emotion, and trying to make 
light of it) Whether you will or not, I am going with you, my father! 
It is you who have aroused this deepest passion in my life. 


Meup1: (Jn quick protest) Not I, my son! It is Allah himself who lights 
that fire. 


Kasim is silent, a little awed. In the pause, the Khan, who has been 
speechless with amazement, speaks. 


Hussein: What is all this, Kasim? Do you mean that you will leave your 
home—your mother and sister—(the little pause suggests that he hesi- 
tates to urge his own claim)—to follow a wandering dervish? Your 
pardon, Hajji—I mean no disrespect. 


Kasim: (In quick defense) Surely, you know that the Hajji is no ordi- 
nary dervish, Father! Yes, it is true—l see, now—the only thing that 
has been keeping me from setting forth upon my Search has been this 
dream—this foolish dream! (He laughs a trifle bitterly.) It is clear 
that women all need taming. 


Menpt: Perhaps we need it, too, Kasim. 


Kasim looks sharply at the Dervish, but makes no reply. 


23 


Hussein: Then I am to send a message to Tehran that the betrothal is 
broken off ? 


Meupi: Must that be done at once? They have asked for time; why not 
wrap the matter in the garment of silence for a little? And, Kasim, you 
shall come with me, at the start. I can put you on the road, at least. 
Yes—yes! There are things that I must show you. (He rises, hs 
strength renewed by his enthusiasm.) 


Kasim: Let us start at once—tonight ! 


Menor: It is well said! I am refreshed—by hospitality (with a gracious 
bow to the Khan), and joy. Let us go forth! 


HussEIn: (Bewildered) Must you go so soon, my son? 


Kasim: This is the writing of Destiny, Father! I see it, now. When one’s 
destiny becomes clear, there is nothing left to do but follow. 


HussEIn: (Nodding slowly) That is a true word. Well—I will prepare 
the women ; be you prepared for lamentation! (He turns toward right.) 


The women, who have been motionless with amazement for several 
minutes, withdraw hastily. The Khan goes out. He pauses at the 
entrance of the anderuni and gives a little cough, as warning of his 
ap proach. 


Menpr: (Absorbed in his vision of the future) Ah! the things that you 
will see, my son! Things that your father never saw even in a dream. 


Kasim: My father has visited Tehran—many times. Where shall we see 
finer things than the Shah’s palace—the mosques—the Peacock Throne? 


Menpr: There are matters hid from the eyes of the flesh but revealed to 
the eye of the spirit. (He pauses, and then repeats the following in a 
sustained and reverent tone, obviously quoting.) The eye of man hath 
not seen, nor his ear heard; neither hath entered into the heart of man 
the things that God hath prepared, for them that love Him. 


Kasim: (Impressed by the words) Is that from the Koran, Hajji? 
Menpr: No—it is from the Christians’ Book. 
Kasim: The Christians’—the Infidels? How——? 


Menupi: (Turning to him and speaking with authority, as a teacher) Be 
not too quick to call them Infidels, my son. There are many among them 
who believe in the infinite wisdom and mercy of Allah, and seek his 
guidance devoutly, as any Moslem. 


KastM: (Amazed and shocked) Is this indeed so, my father? 


Menpt: It is one of the things I must make clear to you, upon the road. 


24 





Kasim: But how—? 


Meupt: How do I know? I have talked with more than one of them— 
especially a teacher at Beirtit. He was a learned man—his brain stocked 
full of wisdom. He knew the blessed Koran from cover to cover—also 
strange writings from far-distant lands—from India and China. Our 
own poets of Iraq he had read; and the name of our immortal Abu Ali 
Sina’ was well known to him. 





Kasim: And still he remained an Inf—er—a Christian? 


The Dervish turns slowly and looks at Kasim with a mild gleam of 
humor im Ins eye. He nods slowly. Before he has time to speak, the 
Khan enters, right. 


Hussein: Kasim, your sister is preparing food for the road. The Hajji 
will desire to wash away the dust of his last journey before setting out 
again. I will take him to the guest-room while you say farewell to your 
mother. Her heart is heavy, son. Be tender with her. 


Kasim bows assent and goes to door, right. He coughs, and then goes 
in. The Khan invites the Dervish by a gesture to accompany lim off, 
left. He picks up the lamp and leads the way. . 


Meno: (Pausing, just before the Khan reaches the door) Aga, I would 
know the name and residence of the merchant of Tehran—the father 
of Kasim’s betrothed. 


Hussein: (Looking at him curiously, but answering with prompt cour- 
tesy) His name is Ali, and his house is in the Ispahan Road, near the 
fruit bazaar. 

Meup1: Ali—in the Ispahan Road! I know him well. Often have I 
drunk tea and eaten a pilaf in his house. 


Hussein: The man is affable enough—if he were not under the thumbs 
of his women-folk! 


Meupi: (Thoughtfully) It is hard for me to make a picture of him in 
my mind as under anybody’s thumb. He is a man of great curiosity. 
It may be that he watches to see what these women will do next. 


Hussein: It may be. Shall you be going to Tehran? 


Meupt: (With alittle shrug) Sooner or later my road brings me back to 
the capital. 


The Khan nods and leads the way off, left. Just before the Dervish 
disappears, the voice of the mother is heard from off right, in a sort 
of wail, 





1 Avicenna is the European form of this name. 


25 


Lreita: Vaie! Vaie! My son, my son! Would that Allah gave thought to 
women when he writes the destinies of men! 


The Dervish, standing in the door, left, turns back toward center. 
The light from the Khan’s lamp in the passage falls upon him. 


Menpt: Allah has often put the pen of Destiny into a woman’s hands! 
(He turns and follows the Khan off.) 


End of Scene I 


Scene I may be ended as here indicated, or the following may be added, 
provided it is possible to control the lighting of the stage skillfully and effectively. 


The light of the lamp dies away. After an instant’s silence music (“March of 
the Magi Kings”) is heard faintly, as from a distance. Shadows envelop the court, 
but the light on the desert scene beyond grows gradually brighter, until it is of an 
almost unearthly radiance. The music increases in volume. When both music and 
light have reached the height of their crescendo, the Dervish comes from the left, 
and Kasim from the right. They meet in the opening at center, pause a moment and 
then go out through the opening, the Dervish first, Kasim following, several paces 
behind. They move silently, turning to the left. The music continues for several 


minutes after they have disappeared, becoming fainter, until it seems to die away 
in the distance. 


KY 
SN 








SCENE II 


Sertinc. The beiruni of the house of Aga Ali, in the Ispahan Road, Tehran. 
There is a balcony at the right, partly screened by draperies, where, however, 
players can be easily seen and heard. Access to this is from the right, both by steps 
leading from the court, and by a door opening to the balcony. Below, there is a 
wide opening at rear into a passage leading to the garden, and thence to the street. 
A glimpse of the garden may be seen through the passage. There is a door at left 
leading to the men’s quarters and another at right leading to the anderunt. There 
may be a basin with a fountain at center, but this is not essential. There should 
be rugs on the floor, and several large thick cushions to serve for seats. The walls 
may also be hung with rugs or Oriental tapestries or prints. The time is afternoon, 
a week later. 


A moment after the curtain rises, Ali enters from left, carrying his 
outer cloak in his hand. He pauses near center and throws the cloak 
over his shoulders. At the same instant, his wife appears om the bal- 
cony, from the door on the upper level, as though she had been watch- 
ing for him. 


Fatimau: Where is the father of my obstinate and wayward daughter 
going? 


Aut: (Looking up with a slow smile while framing a propitiating answer) 
To the jewel bazaar, to buy a new bracelet for the mother of his child. 


Fatimah smiles in spite of herself, but immediately assumes an 
implacable expression. | 


Fatima: What have I done that I should be visited with such disgrace: 
a disobedient and unmaidenly daughter, and a husband who cannot gov- 
ern his own child! 


Att: Patience a littlk—patience! The child has a good spirit—and she may 
make the Aga’s son a better wife in the end if she is driven with a light 
hand now—who knows? 


Fatimau: “Who knows,” indeed! Who troubles himself to know any- 
thing about her? Do you know where she is at this moment? 


ALT oINO, 


Fatrmau: No? Well, I will tell you! She has gone to another of those 
meetings—where she learned all this nonsense, about not being mar- 
ried at an age when all respectable girls are married. Wah! I was a 
mother at her age! 





1 For a simpler setting, see ‘Production Notes,” page 3. 


27 


Aut: (Nodding slowly, then looking up at her with a keen glance) Try 
to think—one little minute. When you see Zeinab, eager, carefree, 
happy, and beautiful, even as her mother was beautiful at fourteen, are 
you really sorry that she is not nursing a baby? 


Fatima: (Avoiding a direct answer with a gesture of impatience) But 
how will it end? Perhaps the son of the Aga will not want her when 
he hears of her wilfulness, and then how shall we ever get her married? 


Aut: (Thoughtfully) There are young men in Persia who are demand- 
ing educated wives. 


Girls’ voices are heard, off rear. 
Oh, here is Zeinab now! Cousin Sakineh is with 
her, I suppose? 


Fatiman: (With a snort of disgust) Cousin Sakineh! Is she not always 
with her? Would Zeinab ever have gone to this mad length of folly if 
it had not been for Cousin Sakineh? Please remember that she is a 
cousin of yours, not 





Ali hfts a hand to warn her, but Zeinab and Sakineh have already 
appeared in the doorway at rear, followed by Mansouri, Sakineh 
glances up at the balcony, and hesitates. 


Aur: I do remember it, with satisfaction. (To the servant) That will do, 
Mansouri. 


Mansouri bows and goes out, left. Ah turns to Zeinab. 
Well, was your meeting interesting? 
ZEINAB: Wonderful, Father! 


SAKINEH: (Dreamily) It has opened the tents of our souls toward the 
sunrise. 


FatimaH: (To the world in general) In my youth it was considered 
heresy for a woman to talk about her soul—and bad taste, besides. 


Zeinab looks at Sakineh with a little shrug, then turns to her father. 


ZEINAB: My English teacher was there and spoke to us about the lives 
of women in America. 


FatimaH: More of these infidel notions! As if it were not enough that 
you should wear the indecent dress of the Firenghi! How your father 
can allow you to go to those meetings— 


Ali turns away with a shrug of impatience, and starts for door at rear, 
with an evident impulse to leave the women to fight it out. Fatimah- 
seeing him, demands: 


Where are you going? 


28 





Aut: (Glancing from his wife to Zeinab and back; incisively) To the 
leather bazaar, to buy a pair of English boots for your daughter! (He 
goes out quickly.) 


Fatiman: (Lifting her hands with a gesture of despair) Aie! Aie! The 
Aga spoke a true word when he said you had all gone mad! I could 
have told him of one member of the family who is still sane, but I am 
only a woman, so what does it matter? (She goes off right, wailing, 
“Ate! Atel’) 


ZEINAB: Oh, Sakineh, will my mother ever understand? 
SAKINEH: I think she will, Zeinab. Your life will make it clear. 
ZEINAB: My life! What will it be? Where is the prophet who can tell me? 


SAKINEH: Allah does not give us a pattern in advance, such as is given 
to the rug-weavers. 


ZEINAB: Are you quite sure, Sakineh, that we do not—make our own? 


SAKINEH: (Glancing quickly up at the balcony; half playfully and half in 
earnest) My dear little cousin, do you not know that what you say is, 
in truth, heresy, in Islam? (More seriously) It may be that our experi- 
ments in designing are, in themselves, a part of the plan of the A'l-Wise. 


Zeinab turns from philosophy to her personal problem with a little 
shrug. 


ZEINAB: But see what I have woven into my life! The father of my 
betrothed thinks me mad-—and my mother agrees with him! As for my 
father, I do not know what he really thinks—do you? 


SAKINEH: I think he waits to see more of the pattern before making up 
his mind. 


ZrinaB: And, besides (she tries to speak lightly, but it is clear that this 
is her most serious concern), my betrothal may be broken off for good— 
when the Aga reaches home. (The laugh which she bravely attempts 
might easily be mistaken for a sob. Sakinch looks at her with quick and 
tender concern, then speaks casually. ) 


SAKINEH: Come up to the balcony, dear, where we can remove these 
stuffy wraps, and then we will talk it over. 


Sakineh goes up the steps, and Zeinab follows. On reaching the bal- 
cony, they remove their outer wraps and then seat themselves on 
cushions on the balcony floor. Sakineh speaks solemnly. 


I have something to tell you, 
little sister, a very strange thing. 


ZEINAB: What is it, Sakineh? 


Sakinen: I have not told you because—well, the idea had to make itself 
at home in my mind. Three days ago I had a talk with the wife of the 
American missionary. She told me that within the last few years num- 
bers of young men have asked the missionaries to choose wives for 
them from among the girls who have been educated in their school. 


A quick intake of breath expresses Zeinab’s amazement. 


In several cases the girls had become Christians before they were se- 
lected by the missionaries, but this made no difference to the young 
men, One man even said, “So much the better!’’ Now it has been 
working itself out in my mind that if you could persuade your 
father to send you to that school for a year or so— 


ZeINAB: (Jumping up in her excitement) Oh, Sakineh, I’d love to! 


SAKINEH: You already know some English, and a little geography and 
history— 


ZEINAB: And I have read some in their Book— 


Sakineh puts her finger quickly to her lips with a startled glance 
around to see if anyone has overheard. Zeinab also is startled for an 
instant, but is too much excited to remain silent. 


Oh, I see! I see what 
you mean, Sakineh. I will do it! Who cares for the son of a village 
Khan, anyway? I don’t wish to bury myself in the desert! 


Saxinen: (With some hesitation) And, Zeinab, she said that there had 
been some young men—educated men—who had married widows— 
like me. 


ZEINAB: Oh, Sakineh! How wonderful it would be if— 


SAKINEH: She says that most girls in America are just getting married at 
my age—and I have been a widow for eight years! 


ZetnAB: After being a wife for less than one! 
SaxineH: If my baby had lived, it would have been different. 
ZEINAB: I know, Sakineh, dear. 


Saxinen: (Smiling fondly at her) But you have been my daughter— 
my little sister—my joy. Zeinab, you can never know what a delight it 
has been to me to see you take this stand. 


ZEINAB: You need not fear that I shall give in now, Sakineh, 


Ali enters from rear, quickly, and glances about the court and the 
balcony. Zeinab leans over the railing and greets him gaily. 





ZEINAB: Oh, Father! Did you find those English boots so quickly? 
Do let me see them! 


Aut: No, child. On my way to the bazaar, I met Dervish Mehdi Murshid, 
who has just returned from the Pilgrimage. I have brought him home 
with me, for I would hear his tale. He is waiting in the garden. 


His tone and gesture indicate gently that the women are expected to 
retire. Sakineh rises and draws her chudder more closely around 
her, Zeinab also draws her chudder about her, but at the same time 
speaks eagerly to her father. 


ZEINAB: Oh, Father, you promised me that the next time he came, I 
might stay and listen to the talk. And now Cousin Sakineh is here, 
to stay with me! I want so much to hear about the Pilgrimage—you 
will let us stay, won’t you? 


Ati: (Slowly) It is true that I promised you, Zeinab, but— 
ZEINAB: Well? 


Aut: This time the Dervish has a chela—a disciple—with him—a young 
man. 


ZEINAB: But since he is a “holy man,” Father,—what harm? 
Aut: Well—well—I cannot disappoint you, child. (He goes out.) 


The women assist each other to arrange their chudders, fluttering 
with excitement. 


ZEINAB: Oh, Sakineh, I feel that this day will stand out in the pattern of 
my life as if it were woven in bright red! 


They sit down. Immediately Ali ushers in Mehdi and Kasim. 


Aut: (Indicating the corner of the court at left front) Be seated, Hajji. 
(He turns to door at left and claps his hands loudly.) 


Mehdi and Kasim seat themselves on the rug, or on cushions at left 
front; Mehdi is facing front, and Kasim, at his left, is so placed that 
he can easily see the women in the balcony. 


Kasim: (Leaning toward Mehdi and speaking very low) What is his 
name? 


Meupr: (Glancing over his shoulder and percewing Ali coming down 
toward them, speaks hastily and low) What matter? He is courteous. 


Ali comes down at right of Mehdi. 


Aut: (Indicating the women by a slight nod) My daughter, and cousin, 
desire to listen to your story, Hajji. 


31 


Meupr: I am honored! 


Both Mehdi and Kasim bow slightly, but do not look directly at the 
women. Mansouri enters from left and bows. 


Aut: Bring tea, Mansouri. 


Mansouri bows again and goes out, left. Ali seats himself at right of 
Mehdi. With a courteous desire to include the young man in the con- 
versation Ali says: 


Hy af Hajji, did your new disciple accompany you to 
ecca ! 


Meup1: No, he has but recently joined me—for a short time. He has 
just decided to go into the American school here, for a year, at least. 


Glances of surprise and interest pass between Zeinab and Sakineh. 
Aut: The Christian School? 
Menor: It will do him no harm, Aga, to know their sacred writings. 


Another glance passes between the women. Ali also looks a little sur- 
prised. 


Our 
Blessed Prophet—upon whom be peace!—never denounced Jesus of 
Nazareth, or spoke of him with aught save reverence. 


Att: (Smiling quizzically) Is it such talk you heard in Mecca, Hajji? 


Menpr: I met pilgrims in the Holy City who had read the Christian 
Scriptures—yes, and found therein new light upon their way. 


Aut: (Still smiling) Ah? Then there were other free-thinkers on pil- 
grimage this year, besides yourself ¢ 

Meupr: Some who were good Shias or Sunnis on arrival were Sufis 
before they left. 

Aut: (Laughing) If they met you there, I can believe it! 

Menpr: I was by no means the chief disturber of their peace, Aga. 


Aut: What, then? (He has grown suddenly serious, and awaits Mehdi’s 
answer with intense interest.) 


Menupr: (Eagerly, to Kasim) What was it I said to you upon the road, 
my son? Did I not tell you that a wind of freedom sweeps across our 
Eastern world? 

Kasim: (Bowing in assent, speaking with great deference toward both 
the Dervish and the Aga, but as if lis enthusiasm will not be denied 


expression) You have not only told me, O my father, but you have 
made me feel it, as it were the sirocco on the desert! 


32 





Meupi: (Sighing deeply) Aie! In many places it is hot as though it 
blew straight from Jehannum. (Turning to Ali) For the most part, 
men see in it the freedom of the nations from oppression. And so 
ea gives up the Caliphate, that the Nation may be supreme— 


: (With sudden grim ferocity) And the Druses turn upon the French 
pati are shot down by hundreds! 


Menuptr: Aie! It is all illusion! Self-determination among the races will 
not save the world, so long.as the human spirit is in shackles. 


Kasim: But here and there, you said, the spirit moves to free itself—? 
Meupr: And so it does—among all faiths. 


As the Aga meditates this answer, Mansouri enters from left with the 
tea service. He places it before Ali, who pours the tea. Mansouri 
hands the cups to the men. They receive them with the phrase, 
“Shuk’r Allah!” and when the three men are served they drink to- 
gether. During this action the two women carry on a conversation in 
low tones, which, however, must be heard by the audience. 


ZEINAB: (Leaning toward her companion) Sakineh, this disciple—did 
you hear his voice when he spoke of freedom? 


SAKINEH: (Nodding cautiously) Yes! He knows the stirring of that 
desire. 


ZEINAB: He would understand— (She breaks off suddenly as if startled 
by her own thought.) ; 


SAKINEH: How a girl might feel it, too? Yes, I think he would. 


During the following moments, while the men are finishing their tea, 
Zeinab steals several cautious glances in the direction of the young 
chela. And Kasim, in the cessation of general conversation, finds his 
attention drawn to the presence of Zeimab. After several glances at 
alternate moments, their eyes finally meet, for an appreciable instant 
of tume. Zeinab immediately turns away and draws her chudder a 
little more closely about her face. Kasim is plainly startled, glances at 
her an instant, then gazes straight out, thinking deeply. He then tries 
to surprise another glance from her, but she is very cautious and he 
does not succeed. Fatimah appears for a moment in the balcony 
behind the young women, is horrified on seeing the men below, flings 
up both hands in despair, draws her chudder more closely about her, 
and withdraws quickly. Meanwhile, Mehdi puts down his cup. Kasim 
does likewise. Ali summons Mansouri, who has been waiting at rear, 
and motions for him to remove the service. He does so, going out, 


left. 


33 


Aut: (Resuming the conversation where it was broken off) You were 
saying, Hajji, that the human spirit frees itself. What is the secret 
of that freedom? 


Meupr: Ah! Men have sought it by lifting the yoke of the strong nations 
from the necks of the weaker—by breaking the bonds of slaves—by 
setting free the workers from the spell of those who claim ownership of 
the gifts of Allah. They have sought it everywhere save in their own 
hearts. And yet, hundreds of years before the time of our Blessed 
Prophet, it was written, Peace on Earth, among men of Good Will. 
How simple, after all, Aga! Good Will to one’s fellow men—that is 
the only power that can crush the head of the serpent, Hate. And only 
when that serpent shall be bound, will humanity be truly freed, to live 
the life to which Allah has destined it upon this earth. 


Aut: (who has been listening with intense absorption, gives a deep sigh 
as of immense relief from some mner burden) Hajji, I believe it is 


the Truth. 


Menot: It is this that men begin to understand. Even the Christians, 
after two thousand years, during which the serpent has used their relig- 
ion to weave new coils about them, are awaking. Many among them 
know that the real power of their faith lies in this principle of love as 
an active, moving force in human life, whether in racial and national 
affairs, in the labor and commerce of the world, in religion, in science, 
or— (he ends slowly) —in—the home. 


The word brings all the listeners back, with a start, to the immediate 
situation. Kasim looks up, and out, remembering his dream. Then 
he looks toward Zeinab. At the same moment she has ventured to 
steal another glance at him, and their eves meet again for an instant. 
Kasim draws a long breath and straightens his shoulders. Then he 
turns to Mehdi. 


Kasim: My father, you said that you had only sought. But I feel, in my 
heart, that this is Truth which you have found. 


Meupi: Ah! I see that much of Truth—and so do many others—East 
and West. The way to make that Truth prevail—that must be found 
by you young men—and (with a glance at Zeinab) —women. 


Zeinab and Sakineh look at each other quickly. 


Aut: (Musing) “And—women.” (He turns slowly and glances toward 
the balcony over his shoulder, then addresses the Dervish deliberately.) 
Hajji, you have touched, unknowingly, upon a question of importance 
in this household. (He thinks a moment.) Since we have here two 
holy men who have reflected upon these matters, I think my daughter 
will forgive me if I beg wisdom for our guidance. 


34 





Zeimab sits breathlessly still, her chudder drawn closely about her 
face. Kasim is greatly interested in what is to follow. The Dervish 
cannot keep a momentary gleam of triumph and amusement out of his 
eyes, but no one sees it, and he is immediately grave again. 


Menpr: Aga, my poor understanding is at your service. 


Aut: (Bowing us head shghtly in thanks to the Dervish, and meditating 
for a moment) Briefly, there are women in Tehran who feel that the 
time has come for them to take an active share in “making Truth pre- 
vail.” (Slowly) My daughter is among them. They believe that mar- 
riage should be deferred until a later age; that a woman should have 
some education before entering on the responsibilities of life; that she 
should be allowed some part in the selection of her husband; and that, 
when married, she should be free to do her part in the activities of the 
community, instead of being secluded in the home, as Moslem women 
have been for centuries. (He pauses for comment.) 


Meupr: (Nodding slowly) I have heard something like that before. 
(He glances at Kasim, but the youth is seemingly paralyzed by aston- 
ishment. ) 


Aut: And you think—? 


The Dervish meditates his answer for a moment; then he turns to 
look Ali squarely in the eyes, and speaks with authority. 


© Menor: I believe, Aga, that all this is a necessary part of the liberation 

. of the human spirit. I believe that woman’s growth is checked and 
thwarted by our customs, and the race can never attain the summit of 
its destiny so long as woman lags behind. 


There is a hush for a moment. Zeinab ts ‘stirred out of: her self- 
consciousness. She lifts her head, and takes a deep breath, looking 
straight out. 


Aut: But consider my situation, Hajji. My daughter was betrothed, some 
years ago, and recently the father of the young man, knowing she had 
reached the customary age of marriage, came to make arrangements 
for the wedding. Thereupon, my daughter declared she would not be 
married, now, and — er — made other conditions. The father has gone 

_ away in wrath, the mother of my daughter is in perpetual lamentation, 
and— 


Ali’s attention is here attracted by an inarticulate gasp of amazement 
from Kasim, who has been staring at him open-mouthed during the 
preceding speech. Mehdi has been watching Kasim furtively, As Ali 
pauses, Kasim leaps to his feet. 


Kastm: (Breathlessly) Aga—what is the name of your daughter? 


Att: (Gazing at him in surprise) Her name is Zeinab. 


35 





Kasim: And yours? 


Aut: (His curiosity submerging possible resentment at the youth's im- 
petuosity) My name is Ali. What—-? 


Kasim: And I am Kasim, the son of Hussein. I am your daughter’s 
betrothed. 


Zeinab, from age-old habit, rises quickly and starts to run from the 
balcony, through the upper door, drawing her chudder over her face. 
Sakineh also rises and follows her, In the sudden silence below, the 
rustle of their garments is plainly heard. Ali rises quickly and speaks 
gently, but in a tone to be obeyed. 


Att: Wait, Zeinab! 


Zeinab pauses, but keeps her head turned away. Ali turns to the 
Dervish. 


Is this true, Hajji? 


Menpi: (Rising also) It is true, Aga. But the young man did not know 
this was your house. ; 


Ali looks at Kasim and sees confirmation of this in lis round-eyed — 
bewilderment. He thinks an instant, then turns to the balcony with 
a slow smile. 


Aut: Zeinab, you have claimed the right to choose your husband. Now, 
at the first opportunity, would you run away? Courage, my daughter! 
Remain here, and—let us consider. Do you still wish to choose for 
yourself ? 


Zeinab gives a helpless look of appeal at Sakineh, who smiles at her 
encouragingly. She turns, timidly, and comes slowly to the railing. 
She casts one or two fleeting glances toward Kasim, who is gazing at 
her, wholly unconscious of anything else. Then she speaks, in a low 
but clear voice, with lowered eyes. 


ZrEINAB: My father, I have already chosen. 


Aut: (Smiling, but not intending to let her off so easily) And who is the 
favored man? 


ZEINAB: (In a voice hardly above a whisper, her head drooping still 
lower) I will marry—my—betrothed. 


There is a moment's silence, Zeinab remaining with head bowed, and 
Kasim gazing at her, utterly absorbed. In the pause, the Dervish 
makes a sign to Ali, suggesting that they withdraw. Ali is at first 
doubtful, but presently nods in agreement, and leads the way off left. 
Sakineh, watching, takes the hint and slips out silently, through the 


36 








upper door. Kasim moves slowly, silently, and half-unconsciously, 
across to the foot of the balcony steps. When he reaches them, Zeinab 
becomes aware of his approach, looks up, and sees that the other men 
have disappeared. She looks wildly about for Sakineh, and, finding 
herself alone with Kasim, 1s minded to flee. 


Kasim: (Quickly) Oh, do not go away! This is a part of the new way, 
Zeinab—it is, indeed! 


Zeinab hesitates, slowly turns back, and finally dares to look at him 
for an instant. 


Ze1NAB: And shall we—follow the new way? 
Kasim: Through the whole journey, Zeinab—if light be given us. 


ZEINAB: (With a child’s delight) Then I can go to school—for a year or 
two? 


Kasim: (Smiling with joy at her pleasure) Yes. I am going to school 
myself. 


ZEINAB: And—afterwards? 


Kasim: Afterwards—we shall work together—to help “make the Truth 


prevail”—in Persia! 





ZEINAB: Oh, Kasim! Iam so happy! (With sudden reverent gratitude) 
I could never have imagined so lovely a pattern, for my weaving! 


Kasim looks up, and, for a moment, they gaze into each other's eyes, 
forgetting convention and custom. 


Kasim: (Speaking half to himself) My dream grows clearer! I had 
thought to pluck’ the rose. But it is better to watch it growing. 


At this instant Fatimah appears in the door on the balcony. 


Fatiman: (To Zeinab) Well—have they gone? (She moves a step or 
two forward and sees Kasim standing at the foot of the steps, gazing up 
at Zeinab. She screams.) Aie! A strange man—alone, with you! Go 
in! Goin! Aie! 


Ali enters quickly from left, followed, more slowly, by the Dervish. 


Aut: Hush! It is all right! This is Kasim, the betrothed of Zeinab—and 
she has just agreed to marry him. This little conference between them 
was permitted. It is a part, I understand, of the new custom. 


Fatiman: (In utter astonishment) Wah! (Helpless in the grip of cir- 
cumstances, she has a sudden impulse of common sense.) Well—the 
world has been upside down for a long time; if it keeps on turning, I 
suppose it will come right side up again, some day! 


. 37 





This breaks the tension, and there is quiet laughter among the men. 
Sakineh has followed Fatimah into the balcony. Zeinab goes to her 
quickly and speaks rapidly but inaudibly to her. Sakineh smiles and 
nods, evidently much pleased. Fatimah gazes curiously at Kasim, who 
has joined the Dervish and Ali at center. The Dervish is saying 
farewell. 


Aut: Farewell, Hajji. You will come again? And— (he hesitates, glances 
at the balcony, then speaks with a little smile)—I do not see that any 
harm would be done if you should bring your chela with you, now and 
then. 


The Dervish smiles understandingly, nods, and turns to go out. 
Kasim, delighted at Ali’s words, turns to see 1f Zeinab has heard. 
She has, and they exchange one final glance before he follows the 
Dervish out, at rear. Ali accompanies the quests into the garden. 
They talk quietly as they go out. Zeinab runs quickly to the steps and 
part way down, leaning forward to catch a last glimpse of Kasim. 


FatimaH: (To Sakineh, with a last feeble attempt at defiance) Well— 
now are you satisfied? 


SAKINEH: (Smiling at her good-naturedly) Yes, Fatimah. Are you not 
satisfied ? 


FaTIMAH: (Surprised into admission of the truth) He is a well-favored 
youth—and Zeinab is happy. (She smiles fondly at her daughter.) 
Come, child! I go to mix that new pilaf I promised to teach you how 
to make. These new-fangled husbands may be willing to let you go ( 
to meetings and study and gad about the town, but mark my words, they 
like good food, as well as any man. 


The girls both laugh and follow Fatimah out, chatting happily 
together. 


THE END 


38 








